


Family Leave

by LothQuendi



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Enthusiastic Consent, First Time Blow Jobs, M/M, Politics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:00:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24362431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LothQuendi/pseuds/LothQuendi
Summary: Sam and Toby stay late at Josh's house after a group hang.
Relationships: Sam Seaborn/Toby Ziegler
Kudos: 18





	Family Leave

Late in Josh's recovery, the senior staff of the White House had taken to spending Saturday nights at his townhouse.

There was no longer any chance of his wound getting infected, of the gunmen returning the finish the job, no particular policy measure causing excessive stress, no major events upcoming, and CJ, Toby, Sam, and Josh were drinking in Josh's living room, all pleasantly buzzed and reminiscing about the ridiculous dreams for the future they'd had at the beginning of the Bartlett for President campaign some three years ago.

“I have no idea,” CJ announced, “how I thought we could get maternity leave on the ballot.” She took a long drink of her beer on the couch between Josh and Sam. Toby sat on a side chair closest to Sam.

“Oh yes, that dream would materialize sooner after.” Josh responded, causing CJ to snort on her beer. A chain reaction made Josh do the same, though he held his ribs carefully as he breathed deeply, smile and lips tight.

“If ever there were anyone who could make that appealing to the public,” Tony cut in quietly, both CJ and Josh still breathing deeply, Sam smiling, “it would be you, CJ. Just tell the public what they need to know, and they'll believe it.”

“That may be the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me, “ CJ responded, looking genuinely touched as she finished her beer.

Toby responded, under his breath, “That wasn't my intention.”

CJ glanced at her watch and rose from her place in the middle of the couch. “I should head out,” she announced.

“Yeah totally,” Josh responded, attempting professionalism as he called her a cab and walked her downstairs.

Toby thought the same; he should go. He'd had enough to drink that he should call a cab and take it back to his home across town. He glanced at Josh's home phone, just on the other side of the living room by the kitchen. It was so far away. Maybe he'd had more of Josh's whiskey than he'd realized.

“It's not a bad idea,” a voice suddenly broke through Toby's waning willpower. He looked up to see Sam leaning far back against Josh's sofa, grinning and staring at the ceiling.

“What isn't a bad idea?” Toby asked against his better judgment. He should leave soon, he thought. It would be only polite to leave soon. It would be best to fall asleep in his own bed.

Sam turned his sharp blue eyes on him and responded, “Getting maternity leave on the ballot,” he responded, voice slurring slightly. He was still grinning for some stupid reason. “I mean, why shouldn't women who've just given birth get time to recover? Around half the country goes through it, it should be normalized by now.”

Toby nodded, his arms stretched out onto the chair's arms, fingers flexing into the rought fabric seemingly of their own volition. Sam continued to gaze at him, as though waiting for a response, casual smile still in place.

“It's a fine idea,” Toby finally responded noncommittally. He wasn't sure what response those bright blue eyes were looking for. Fortunately Josh returned to the apartment and broke the tangible tension with his howling, “Hoooo, it's cold out there!”

Sam and Toby both turned to Josh, standing in his own entryway.

“It's chilly out there,” Josh continued, shedding his boots and coat. “You guys are welcome to take the guest room if you want.” Their host suddenly swayed on his feet when attempting to remove his second shoe.

Sam and Toby glanced at one another amused, obviously having seen the same sign of drunkenness.

“You can share it if you want,” Josh offered, pulling off his shirt as he wandered down his own hallway toward the large bedroom at the end of the hall. The door to the room slammed closed and Sam and Toby made eye contact once again.

“I guess that's our dismissal,” Sam announced, his eyes bright with mirth.

Toby agreed with less enthusiasm, “The revelry's over, time to get to bed.” He rolled himself off of the side chair with less grace than he would have liked and made his way toward the guest room. Sam was suddenly there when he arrived at the door.

“We can share, right?” The deputy asked.

“Share what?” Toby wondered, feeling ready to collapse and sleep away the night.

“Share the room, the bed,” Sam clarified, “it's a king bed.”

Toby nudged open the guest room door to see a giant, perhaps 'king-sized' bed, and shrugged apathetically at his deputy, “Sure,” he responded, moving to the only bathroom to prepare for bed.

Toby fumbled in the bathroom to dress in his typical evening ensemble of tank tops and boxers. When he entered the guest bedroom from the hallway, his deputy was already stripped down to his boxers and sitting at the right side headboard of the king size bed.

“Why do you think I'm wrong?” Sam immediately asked upon Toby's reappearance from the hallway.

Toby paused in the entrance way at the question. The answer was easy enough, but the room itself was suddenly full of the image in front of him; Sam, sitting cross-legged on the bed, his lower half covered in cream colored sheets, but his upper half completely exposed – apparently Sam did not wear a tank top or t-shirt to bed like Toby. Sam's chest and belly were as tan, smooth, and hairless as Toby would have expected, considering his deputy's youth and proclivities toward a healthy lifestyle. Sam seemed oblivious to the atmosphere he presented to the room. Relaxed and curious, he leaned heavy onto his right arm, strongly focused on Toby's re-entrance into the guest room. Toby broke his eyes away from the gentle creases in Sam's flat stomach.

Toby moved into the room by a couple of steps and allowed the bedroom door to close behind himself as naturally as possible. He'd never shared a room with his deputy and he absolutely didn't want to make it an awkward experience. 

“Well?” Sam urged, learning forward with both hands in his lap, legs obviously crossed under the thin sheet.

Toby took a moment to remember what their conversation had been about earlier. He closed his eyes for a moment as he stood in the center of the room and recalled CJ's comment about maternity leave. The policy pros and cons, the varied opinions from the right left and center filled his mind and he chuckled gently and opened his eyes.

“It's a fine idea,” he repeated as he climbed onto the bed, sitting cross-legged a few inches in front of his deputy. “It's just not feasible as a law. Requiring that businesses pay maternity leave means that small businesses are suddenly paying for employees to take weeks-long paid leave, and helping small businesses is the forefront of the other side's economic plan,” Toby explained, then chuckled quietly. “And saving big businesses the trouble of the doing the same is in the background of their plan.”

Sam scoffed. “People get jobs in order to pay to live, that's kind of the point,” he retaliated, falling back onto one arm, which stretched his stomach flat again when he took in a deep breath and continued. “Having kids is a normal part of life; literally everyone in existence has come from a woman who sacrificed their well-being to create them. Seems like the least we could do is give them time to recover from it.”

“We have the Family and Medical Leave Act,” Toby reminded him.

“Yeah, which allows women to take six weeks off of work without losing their jobs. It doesn't guarantee any pay during that time at all, so it may not even benefit low income families.”

“You're right,” Toby conceded. He sighed and shook his head, leaning into Sam's space as though sharing a secret. “It's a shit system that doesn't help the poor like it's supposed to. I wish we could do more.”

“Wishing isn't going to get a law passed,” Sam reminded him, leaning in as well.

“It doesn't seem likely that anything could. But we can try.”

Sam's face brightened, confused but hopeful. “Try?” he asked.

Toby shook his head, eyes focused on Sam's bright blue eyes, his earnest expression. “We can write something up on Monday and submit it to the president. I'm sure he feels the same way. We can poll congress and set up a questionnaire with the pollsters and see what public opinion is; maybe they would support it.”

Sam didn't say anything. He stared at Toby, mouth slightly open, eyes fuzzy from Toby's point of view, though he wasn't sure if that was his own inebriation or his deputy's.

It took a moment for him to realize what was happening, but suddenly Toby was being kissed. Lips were on his, a tongue pushing into his mouth, a hand on his cheek. He leaned in to reciprocate just as the mouth pulled away. 

Sam leaned back on the bed, breathing heavily. “I'm so sorry,” he breathed, shuffling to the side of the bed and standing. “I'm going to go.”

Lips tingling, brain fuzzy but insistent, Toby stood as well.

“No,” he said quietly, then more forcefully, “No, it's fine.”

Sam stopped at the door, hand on the knob. 

“It's fine,” Toby repeated. “I just.... I wasn't expecting it.”

Same turned around, looking sheepish and young in his boxer briefs and no shirt, and suddenly all Toby wanted to do was make him feel better, make him understand that Toby saw him and understood him.

Toby walked forward. His feet felt quick, but it seemed like a long time before Sam was directly in front of him, still looking at the floor.

“I can sleep on the couch, I don't mind,” Sam insisted.

Toby shook his head, though he wasn't sure if Sam could see it. He wanted Sam's face, unsure of what to do to make the situation better, and his eyes wandered to his mouth. Sam's bottom lip was sucked into his mouth, top lip red and plump – perhaps from alcohol or embarrassment – and when he released his gnawed bottom lip, it was red and juicy too. And so it was obvious to Toby what he should do next. Obvious and inevitable.

He stepped forward, stepped too close for Communications Directly and Deputy Communications Director, and pressed his lips to Sam's abused ones. Pressed close, he reached one hand around to the back of Sam's neck, first as a way to steady himself, and then feeling the ends of Sam's hair between his fingers, the nape of his neck, narrow and vulnerable.

And after that he couldn't help it. It could have been a quick kiss to show that he didn't mind Sam's earlier indiscretion, but as soon as his hand fell on Sam's soft skin, Sam pressed forward, moving his head upward, caressed his plump lips across Toby's dry and pink ones, and Toby was lost. Their relationship didn't exist anymore, only the press of skin against skin and such enthusiastic encouragement in the form of a slick hot tongue caressing his mouth and soon after his own tongue.

It was glorious, due in a large part, Toby was sure, to the alcohol. But there was no time now to think about the reasons or meanings of their actions. Sam's hands fell on Toby's shoulders, arms, then waste and hips as he slowly walked him back against the wall of Josh's guest room. A garish pink room that disappeared when Sam's mouth moved away from Toby's lips and found themselves licking up from his collarbone, his neck, to behind his ear, and latched on, suckling in a way that Toby had not experienced since he was a young man in the back of his car in college.

He couldn't help but make noise then; Sam's mouth caused shooting sparks through his body, from his neck through his heart and stomach, down to his penis, which twitched and grew.

It had gone too far, Toby suddenly realized as Sam's suckling paused and the point of his tongue made it's way back down Toby's neck. This was just a drunken make-out session, and he was making it weird by becoming erect. 

Toby opened his mouth to stop what was happening, embarrassed at how strongly he was reacting to the situation, when Sam suddenly pressed his entire lower half into his.

“Jesus,” Toby proclaimed. A long hard shaft was clearly present through Sam's boxer-briefs, pressed against Toby's lower stomach. Sam's hot breath hitched against his neck, and then his mouth was once against pressed against Toby's, desperate and hot this time in a way it hadn't been before. 

‘It’s just the alcohol….” The thought drifted briefly through Toby’s head as his right hand shifted down to grasp the round, perk ass of his co-worker. His subordinate. His employee who was sucking and rubbing at his tongue with his own, the sensation going straight to his stomach and erection. 

Suddenly the mouth was gone, and Toby took a deep breath. The word employee swam through his head and he opened his mouth to say… something? He wasn’t even close to coming up with the words he knew he needed to say before Sam was suddenly on his knees in front of him, his lithe, strong hands on Toby’s stomach, the top of his boxers. 

Toby stared. Took a deep breath. Had to say something. 

“This is so hot,” is what eventually he eventually whispered. Sam paused, hands curling around the top of his boxers, and gazed up at him. Cheeks flushed, lips dark and swollen, eyes piercing blue as always. 

“Employee,” is the next word that Toby was able to utter, feeling stupid and slow. 

Sam stared up at him still, licked his lips, raised his brows. “I know,” he whispered back. “I know, but can I?” His hands moved from Toby’s boxers, flattening against the line of his waste, caressing in askance, slowly, gently, calming fears. 

Toby breathed deeply, watching Sam’s long fingers. His mind tried to process the implications of what was happening, but the image of Sam’s eager face, blue eyes waiting for permission, emptied his head of thought. He let go of the niggling tendrils of worry in the back of his mind and nodded. 

Sam smiled and almost looked relieved as his hands returned to the top of his boxers, fingers dipping underneath, curling and pulling them down over Toby’s erection. 

The hot heavy breath caressing him alone made his cock twitch in anticipation. Sam’s hands were on his thighs, squeezing, caressing as though he was precious, beautiful, special in a way that Toby wasn’t sure he’d ever seen someone do before. Sam was the beautiful one, the one who should be worshipped and caressed. Sam kissed the crease between his hip and thigh and Toby almost protested again. But then Sam’s lips were suddenly wrapped around the head of his cock and Toby fell back against the wall of the bedroom. He couldn’t look anymore, only feel the swirl of Sam’s tongue, his hot, tight mouth working it’s way down the shaft, his hand touching and caressing his balls and the base of his cock. 

It was overwhelming, and he found himself thrusting his hips, grasping his hands against a bare wall, shifting his feet as though unable to stay in one place through the overwhelming, shocking pleasure. When the movement on his cock slowed, he gathered his willpower to lift his head away from the wall and look down at the man in front of him. 

Sam was breathing deeply, bare chest rising and falling with his breaths, eyes focused on his hand which ran slowly up and down Toby’s shaft. Toby’s gaze shifted lower to where Sam’s left hand dragged across Sam’s erection – pulled free of his boxers – at the same pace as his right hand on Toby’s. 

Toby had never seen a man jerk off in real life, not out in the open and so close to him. He never thought he’d want to see anything like that. But the image of Sam’s hands working in unison to pull both his own cock and Toby’s suddenly set Toby over the edge. 

His hand shot out and surrounded Sam’s right hand, tightening both of them around his hard shaft and thrust himself through their combined grip. He saw stars – a cliché he’d never admit to having thought of experienced – and grasped the back of Sam’s head through his shaking, gasping orgasm. 

The next thing he knew, he was being kissed again, tongue shoved into his pliant mouth, his lips were bitten and sucked, arms wrapped around his neck, and he came back to his body enough to reach down and find Sam’s dark heavy erection and rub the palm of his hand against the very tip until the body against his jerked and collapsed them both to the floor. 

Toby somehow had the presence of mind to soften their fall where Sam did not. He caressed Sam’s head, pressed tightly against his shoulder, and listened to his gasps slow into gentle breaths. 

Their knees where pressed against one another, cocks still hanging out, soft with cum clinging randomly across their sweaty bodies. They stayed that way too long, longer than it took for each of them to realize what had just happened and the ramifications of their actions. Toby’s hand had slowed and stopped atop Sam’s head and they lay against one another for no reason other than each of them was unsure how to proceed. Toby wondered briefly if he should help Sam up and off of him, maybe lead him into the bathroom where they would clean up, and then make their way together back into the bedroom, curl up in the ‘king-size’ bed wrapped around one another, wake up tomorrow and talk about how to hide this thing they’ve started, how to meet for dinners and sex at one another’s homes without the press catching wind of it, the look on CJ’s face when it inevitably became public, the look on Leo’s face, how awkward it would be to explain their relationship to the president and the reluctant – maybe disgusted – look on the president’s face when he is forced to fire both of them….

Sam lifted his head slowly, breath steady, eyes lowered, and untangled himself from Toby. He was gone so suddenly that Toby’s mouth was left open to an empty room. He wasn’t sure what he would have said anyway. 

After Sam came back in the room a few minutes later having added a thin undershirt to his nighttime ensemble and climbed into bed, Toby made his way into the bathroom to clean up. He used a wet washcloth to clean himself, then splashed ice cold water on his face. Back in the bedroom, Sam was still under the thin sheet. Toby switched the light off and climbed onto the opposite side of the bed. He stayed on top of the sheet. 

It was warm in the room, too warm to sleep with any kind of cover. Or maybe it was the alcohol, Josh’s fine whiskey, that kept him from covering up. He listened to the soft, even breaths coming from the other side of the bed and knew that tomorrow would like much like yesterday. Except maybe he would write up a proposal for family leave. Maybe he would create polls asking about support. Maybe Sam could help.


End file.
